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THE DEATH 

OF THE 

PRESIDEISTT 

SERMON 

BY REV. DAVID SWINQ. 

Preached in the Presbyterian Church at 
HAmLTON, 0., April 16, 1865. 



1865 : 



HAMILTON TELEGRAPH PRIXT. 



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»'The Lord reigiieth ; let the earth rejoice." 

PSAiM 97. 

I shall designate no particular passage of 
Scripture as the basis of the remarks of this 
gloomy morning, but shall try to speak in har- 
mony with the spirit of that sublime psalm, be- 
ginning with the words, "The Lord reigneth, 
let the earth rejoice." 

I should be guilty of neglect of duty to my 
fellow-men, guilty of rudeness to your sacred 
feeling, and of impiety itself, should I fail at this 
solemn hour, and in Jehovah's temple, to con- 
fess the transaction of last Friday night, its hor- 
ror, its mystery, its grief. I join, therefore, 
with this assembly in confessing this sad provi- 
dence of God. Let us acknowledge its greatness 
and sadness, and confess also, that there must 
lie hidden within it, something of the divine 
righteousness and goodness. In the imperfect 
and brief thoughts of this time, I shall take the 
stand-point of hope and faith in God, feeling 
that such a stand- point is justified by our reason 
and our Christianitv. 



Could tliose men who placed the late Presi- 
dent in office have heen granted the privilege, 
a few days ago, of selecting an earthly destiny 
for the Ruler of this people, they would have 
said with one voice, "May he pass onward to 
old age with natural powers unabated, enjoying 
to the extreme limit of human life, the spectacle 
of a free, and vast, and united country, and of 
which the happiness and freedom should date 
its new impulse in the noon of his own life." 
Such would have been the public wish, for the 
heart loves to see the bonofaetor of mankind re- 
ceiving the rewards of years well spent. 

Washington and the Adamses enjoyed a 
tranquil old age. Full of beautiful retrospection 
wherein there arose picture after picture of na- 
tional splendor, their years passed avray as fades 
a day of summer into the softness of night. Such 
an ending of a great life gratifies the heart. 

It was not the destiny of Abraham Lincoln 
to imitate the Washingtons and Adamses in 
his death, but perhaps it was glory and happi- 
ness enough for him, that he resembled them in 
his life. And we confess that, whether one dies 
in old age by disease, or in the noon or morn of 
life by violence, is a question less important 
than whether the Life while it lasts, was well 
lived for man and native land. If the life was 
well lived, the suddenness of assassination, 



its guilt, its imspGakable cruelty paralyze the 
living, but are unable to efface the glory of the 
victims former years, or check the influence of 
his thoughts. 

But while we thus try to assuage our grief by 
philosophy, yet our tears return when we feel 
that our loved nation is bereft of a father, a 
guide, a friend ; return when we see the great 
heart, with its tenderness toward soldier and 
citizen and slave, done with its pulsations ; re- 
tui-n when we think of the low ingratitude that 
took the life of one so worthy to live. In our 
grief we come to the temple of Jehovah, and cry 
out, **TheLord reigneth — let the earth be glad." 

If there ever have been, or can be, hours in 
which the religious mind might be glad that 
there is a power greater than man's ; a power 
not subject to the vicissitudes attaching to hu- 
man life ; a power guided at once by justice and 
love, this is one of those hours. Such a day 
has not dawned upon us before. Out of the 
depths of its sorrow we cry out to God. In 
His wisdom and power and love and continu- 
ance from age to age, we find this day our hope 
and trust. No human hand, brandishing a wea- 
pon of death, can mould the fate of this people, 
for above is God. The murderer can stop the 
pulse of a single great and noble heart. In the 
economy of earth it is possible for the meanest 



6 

man to slay the noblest niler ; he can make the 
wife a widow, the children fatherless ; can bring 
our flags to half-mast, can drape our houses with 
black, and fills with tears eyes unaccustomed to 
weep, but it is the hand of God that leads na- 
tions from the morning to the night of their 
lives. Around man is God. Man cooimits 
acts, but God shapes destinies. Judas could 
give the betraying kiss, and could receive the 
pieces of silver ; a common executioner could 
nail to the cross ; a mercenary soldier could 
pierce the side, but it lay beyond the power of man 
to overthrow Christ's philosophy, or to keep His 
spirit in the tomb. Over and around and above 
man is God, omnipotent, righteous and good. 
One man may influence the phenomena of the 
hour. Him whom we loved as President yester- 
day, is lying motionless to day. It was per- 
mitted to a single monster of vice to send our 
Magistrate from the busy capital to the silent 
grave, but Him whom we loved as God yester- 
day, lives as God still, the same yesterday, to-day 
and forever, and the march of His events is more 
perpetual than the flashing of the sun. 

The toiling ants, laboring with extreme in- 
dustry, can change the position of atoms of earth, 
placing this particle here and that one there, but 
the great globe with its hills and vales and 
oceans, turns over at the voice of God. The 



toiling insect with its puny works, goes around 
with the immense mass. That assassin of new, 
but unparalelled infamy, transfers the sacred clay 
from the avenues of Washington to the tomb, 
but the plan of God rolls around, bearing on its 
broad bosom the fugitive murderer and the pale 
corpse. The stealthy tread of assassins, the long 
planned treason of Richmond and Charleston, 
the midnight plottings in Indianapolis and Chi- 
cago, the meeting of incendiaries in New York, 
all disturb the surface of society, but around 
these commotions is God, infinite in his goodness 
and beautiful in his everlasting peace. 

By casting pebbles into a river, children can 
ruffle its bosom, but the mighty stream passes 
onward toward its far off ocean. 

Pittiable assassin ! he has ruffled the bosom of 
Freedoms tide, but leaves the grand river to roll 
onward toward its sea. 

Every nation has twe Kings — one with an 
earthly scepter, the other upon the great white 
throne. In the white throne lie the grandeur, the 
strength, the final hopes of nations. Sometimes 
the earthly prince falls by violence ; at last all 
such princes comes by various paths to the sep- 
ulchre, but from the brow of the heavenly King 
the crown never falls, that throne never becomes 
dust. Moses and Aaron sunk in death in 
mountain solitudes, their eye having caught only 



8 

fading visions of the promised land, tlieir feet 
paused on its flowery borders, but with these 
loaders cold in death, the nation itself passed 
over the sacred river and encamped in the lovely- 
land. It was not God that died upon Mt. Pis- 
gah. It was Moses and Aaron. When an 
eartlily voice has ceaeed to guide by its wisdom, 
there remains yet the universe's everlasting 
voice, awful in thunderings of wrath, or comfort- 
ing in its whisperings of love. And the policy 
of this King of Kings cannot be otherwise than 
right and kind. The mind is not capable of be- 
lieving the opposite, so that we hasten to confess 
that there must be a warm sunshine pouring 
down upon the other side of the cloud that en- 
shrouds us now. Many times in history it haa 
corns to pass that the martyrdom of the truth 
holder has proven the triumph of his truth. The 
broken box of ointment sends its perfume out 
upon the winds. Christians soon learned to say 
that the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the 
Church. It is more than possible that the sen- 
timents of the illustrious dead were not suffi-'ient- 
ly sacred to the public heart. It is possible that 
too many wholly rejected them, that too many 
held them with too feeble a grasp, that too many _ 
stood by indifferent or mocking spectators of the 
thrilling scenes of the last four years, and that 
now a kind God comes in this sad calamity to 



silence the mockiiigs of men, and to ta,\e away 
the indifFerence from thousands of souls, and to 
substitute for it some conception of the greatness 
of passing events and some respect for the prin- 
ciples which have led to martyrdom. The gar- 
ments of the dead Ca?sar were more powerful than 
his brandished sword. The rude rents of the dag- 
gers aroused and cemented dissevered Roman 
millions, and it may prove that God wishes 
once again to arouse and bind together discord- 
ant American hearts, by placing before them the 
lifeless body of the highest officer of state. 
During all the life of Mr. Lincoln his mind has 
clung to those truths which favor the equality, 
and liberty, and progress of mankind. In tho 
hour of his greatest devotion to these principles, 
and while the eyes of millions are turned toward 
himself, he falls dead in the very forum of lib- 
erty, that the garments of the slain Ctesar may 
transcend the eloquence of life. 

To the voice of martyred soldiers who have 
fallen like the leaves of Autumn, there is added 
now the voice of the murdered President, as if 
God were now asking in such mournful manner 
whether they will not at last consent to love 
their laud so memorable for its bloody sacrifice. 

And it is more than possible that on last Fri- 
day there yet remained in this land tens of thou- 
sands in the loyal states who had not yet beeu 



10 

the spirit of the great rebellion, thousands, who, 
from predjudice could not, thousands, who, from 
past professions, durst not confess its wickedness 
and cruelty, thousands who have apologized for, 
and even admired the leaders of this revolt; before 
all which thousands an overruling Providence 
places this day, the whitened face of our President, 
asking them if noAv they can discover anything 
in the rebellion besides honor ? 

It seemed not enough that thousands of soldiers 
had baptized the national truths in their blood. 
War had ceased to move deeply the public soul. 
War had become a business, a science, an art. 
In these latter days, a thousand men falling 
about Richmond or Savannah, have impressed 
only the mothers and sisters that weep in secret. 
The rebels slaying patriots on the battle-field, 
have for three years past, ceased to betray the 
atrocity of Secession. Many no longer know 
what general fell in the last battle ; many notice 
no more the lists of the dead. In this hour of 
cold neglect God sends death to our door. A 
name is added to the list now that will be read. 
The atrocity of the Confederacy is revealed. God 
has permitted it to express itself through an as- 
sassin, that every civilized mind may behold the 
savageness of its nature, the depravity of its ge- 
nius. 

Lest there might be found some to declare that 



11 

the war is honorable on the part of t|ie Confeder- 
ate Chief, God ha.s permitted that war to assume 
the garb of assassination, that its nature may 
find its true estimate. That for two hundred 
years the genius of this Confederacy has dis- 
played itself in the working and beating of 
slaves, in the mobbing of schoolmasters, in the 
hunting of human beings with blood-hounds, 
that it has -within the last Olympiad, made 
ornaments of Northern skulls ; that it has sold 
poisoned food to soldiers ; that it turned thief 
before the war and incendiary after ; that it mas- 
sacred in cold blood the troops of Fort Pillow ; 
that it has starved to death twenty thousand 
prisoners of war, has not been thought of God 
sufficient to fully express the inmost spirit of 
the Slave Empire. It was capable of other 
achievements. The weapons of its infernal 
quiver were not yet shot away. It remained for 
it to murder a kind and honest man, in a place 
of public amusement, and to stab in the throat 
an invalid already on the border of death. 

Time may show that it was a kindness in God 
to permit this nation to rnce more behold the 
demon of Charleston and Richmond, ere the 
terms of the coming peace may be agreed upon 
by the powers at Washington. Amid the joy 
and pride of great victories, it might have been 
the nation's misfortune to forget the long history 



12 

and secret nature of its foe, and in a generous hour 
it might have filled its bosom with vipers waiting 
to be warmed into life. Our cup is mingled 
with wormwood and gall. This land is not in- 
toxicated with gladness now, and years must 
pass before the hearts that waked upon the 
morning of last Saturday, can become childish 
in glee. The dead at Washington shall drive 
lethargy from every heart, and transform the 
arm of indolence into one of steel. 

Oh how the power of God works above the 
power of man. The assassin, leaping upon the 
stage of the theater, exu-Its as though he had 
avenged the revolted land. He brandished his 
weapon as if he had brought back to the South 
its lost hopes and lost children, but instead of 
being her avenger, he is a new Nemesis coming 
with a deeper humiliation. What kind of 
avenger is that, which transforms the armies of 
the Republic into an outraged and infuriated and 
irresistible soldiery, an(i puts the glove of iron 
on the hand that shall offer the boon of peace. 
It was a mistaken act for the South ; that which 
filled with new anger, and just before God, the 
hearts of over five hundred thousand armed men 
standing on the soil that has given assassination 
birth. The arm that was stretche'l forth against 
Mr. Lincoln was no true avenger. It has silenced 
the kindest voice the loyal states were willing to 



13 

send to the Presidential chair. It has stiftened 
the hand that most hastened to offer the olive 
branch to the foe. It has hurried to the tomb 
tlie largest charity which patriots were willing 
to t;lothe with kftigly authority. ' 

Thu3 of all foes of the South, her champion 
may prove the greatest and the last. As her 
calamities began in its own passions, so by the 
same passion in tho habit of a murderer shall her 
calamities proceed. 

Fable informs us that the wife of Hercules, 
from deep love of her heroic lord, gave him as a 
gift of affection a splendid garment from the dying 
Nessus, but no sooner had the hero put on the 
gift than its threads became strong as steel and 
poisonous as the adder, and began to sink into 
the hero's flesh. No hand of friendship could 
remove the strange vestment, and the mighty 
Hercules bowed in a deatli of fearful agony. The 
friend of the South has presented the conspiracy 
with the robe of the murdered Lincoln. It re- 
mains for the limbs of the Richmond Hercules 
to be racked with new tortures. What hand of 
friendship can take back the fatal gift ? What 
remains but the closing in of the magic threads 
and the death of suffering. 

To us looking at the spectacle of to-day, it 
seems that God is not willing that the voice of 
mercy shall be heard so loud in the last year of 



14 

this mighty struggle. lie reads hearts hetter 
than we can read, and He seems to see in the 
souls of the leading conspirators, a depth of guilt 
that calls for the thunders of justice, rather than 
the vvooings of misplaced love. I do not know 
why He has called mildness and forgiveness to 
the grave, unless it be His wish that even- 
handed justice shall hold for a time the sceptre 
of this Republic. Man fails to perceive often 
the desert of sin. Or perceiving, soon forgets, 
and forgives because he forgets, but God forgets 
no crime. The guilt of this treason, the blood 
that beg]in to flow four years ago have be "n 
measured by a just God. He holds in fresh re- 
membrance the sorrow of every widow, the cry 
of every orphan. He has counted the patriots 
slain. There is no grave into which He has not 
seen the body fall. He has seen the starving 
prisoners raising their sunken eyes toward His 
starry heavens in prayer. Yes aH that awful 
guilt lies before Him, vast and visible as this 
rolling world, and it may be that the mild voice 
of man is to be superseded by the red right arm of 
Jehovah. 

But be the future what it may, our trust is 
still in God. Whether there awaits our loved 
country any saddei day than this, we know not, 
but we shall not be cast down by the afflliction 
of this hour. I hope it is in the heart of no one 



15 

in this assembly to murmur in presence of that 
God who has brought our country through so 
many vicissitudes in its whole history, and in 
the years just passed. What seurst conspiracies 
have been discovered and crushed by the favor 
of God ! What preservation from foreign wars! 
What harvests have been gathered in our fields ! 
What election to office of good men ! What a 
keeping away of pestilence ! What revivals of 
religion among citizens and in the tented field ! 
What overruling of war's delay to the destruction 
of slavery and the transformation of public 
thought ! And at last, what success in arms ! 
Military genius of the highest order has sprung up 
from humble life, an I the armies of the R3public 
have borne their shout of triumph from its ming- 
ling with the murmurs of the Mississippi, to its 
mingling with the roar of old Ocean. One by 
one the cities of the foe have fallen back to their 
lawful owner. The flag of treason has come to 
its trailing in the dust, while amid the sweet 
breezes of Spring the "banner of beanty and 
glory" has climbed up to the sacred places of 
former years. The government that boasted 
and defied at Richmond, is an outcast to-day, 
journeying from village to village as destitute at 
last of power as it always has been of honor. 

In the temple of such a gift-giving God, let 
n J heart do otherwise than confess the Divine 



16 

poodness. It is not the nation that has died at 
Washington— it is a hnraan being, nseful in his 
life and glorious in his death. With his life- 
work almost done, according to the law of na- 
ture which assigns man three score of years, he 
died in the afcernoon, rather than in the late 
evening of age. If the blood of martyrs make 
their trnth to grow, then must the truth of this 
land throw out new leavos and blossoms this 
day, for the best blood has been poured out for 
V8 sake. If it is sad that Mr. Lincoln died so 
Koon, it is delightful to think that he left behind 
liim a country in which he could find a good 
tomb. 

The most ambitious spirit could not well ask 
of God more years or deeds of honor, than have 
been allotted to Abraham Lincoln. To have 
acted through tour such years as have just closed 
to him ; to have thought their thoughts by day 
and by night; to have slept upon their pillow 
of care ; to have experienced their joys and sor- 
rows ; to have marshalled thjir million of troops; 
to have heard their shouts in the East and West, 
as they poured onward into the "ranks of war;" 
to have seen them "reposess the forts ; but great- 
ei than all, to have declared fie3 four millions 
of slaves, and to have seen the thoughts and feel- 
ings of a vast people change from shame to hon- 
or, from reproach to glory, this is to tranj^form 



17 

years into centuries and to baffle the reckonings 
of Fate. 

And at last, as though his page in history 
were not sacred enough, as if time might make 
lis forget its grandeur and worth, God has thrown 
over the iilnstrious nam3 the glory of trae mar- 
tyrdom, and to an impressive life has added the 
charm, the melancholy of a tragical death. It 
was necessary that Americans should read this 
page of history not only with interest but with 
deep emotion. Abraham Lincoln saw to it that 
we should read his history with interest ; the 
assassin has seen to it that we shall read it with 
tears. 

When the great dramatic writers have sought 
to impress upon, or waken a lasting interest in 
the minds of mankind, they have resorted to 
tragedy, because there is something in calamity 
that writes deep lines in remembrance. Over 
the history or Mr. Lincoln, hangs now the pall 
of a violent death. It adds to the influence of 
Socrates that he was poisoned, and time will 
show that the a'^sassination of Mr. Lincoln 
helped to weave his wreath of immortality. 

May God overrule this event also, as a thou- 
sand past events for the country's good. The 
happiness of millions is of greater value than the 
life of a man — the nation is greater than its 
President, snl if by the dreadful deed which to- 



18 

day drapes our church and homes with the em- 
blems of death and grief, God shall again remind 
this people of the character of that foe which has 
toiled long to destroy this land, if He shall thus 
open the blackness of treason's gulf, if by the 
gasping, the dying, the dead Chief Magistrate, 
He shall render the country more dear to our 
hearts then will the blood that flowed in the 
theater, unite its usefulness with the crimson 
tide that has dyed the battlefields of the South. 
All things we intrust into the hands of God, to 
whose name be dominion and power and glory 
forever, Amsn. 



LB S '12 



